Lanai

You are currently browsing the archive for the Lanai category.

One last search for the Holy Grail

Macduff hasn’t given up his quest for finding petroglyphs so this morning we took another rutted Jeep road to Keahi Kawelo, better known as the Garden of the Gods, in the northwest corner of the island. The road was the color of rust and lined with an impenetrable wall of grass, as tall and prickly as sugar cane, on both sides. A few miles on, we passed over a cattle grate and the vegetation instantly changed to an eerie forest of mesquite and ironwood, and then changed again, a few miles on, to a lunar landscape of ocher soil and boulders, in every size imaginable, that looked as if they’d fallen from the heavens millions of years ago as stony tears from the gods.

photo by David Lansing

photo by David Lansing

While I sat on a rock that looked like a petrified dinosaur egg, Macduff ran around with his camera taking a gazillion photos. “Look at the light!” he kept screaming.

It was magnificent. Thick and honey-colored, throwing long shadows over the rocks, the tombstones of ancient Hawaiian gods. Only a stiff wind broke the solemn silence.

One of the stories I’d heard about the place has it that a big kahuna from Molokai challenged a Lanai kahuna named Kawelo to build a fire on opposite sides of the channel separating the two islands to see who could keep their flame burning longer. The Lanai kahuna won, burning everything in sight, which is why, they say, there are no twigs, shrubs, or trees in the Garden of the Gods. You’d think that with all these gods running around on this sacred spot there’d be a petroglyph or two somewhere, but neither of us could find anything.

Macduff was unusually cranky on the drive back so when he spotted something along the side of the road and asked me to stop, I did. What he’d seen was a boulder with graffiti on it saying ART. Why he wanted to shoot it I had no idea, but I was willing to indulge him. He shot the orange rock and the green field it was in, mumbling something about this being true Hawaiian culture, and then wandered up the hill a bit to get a panoramic shot of the valley (he’s big on pano shots and has a special camera for them).

photo by David Lansing

photo by David Lansing

Which is when I suddenly heard him screaming like a little girl.

“It’s here!” he cried in a high voice.

“What is?” I yelled.

“A petroglyph! Right here!”

And sure enough. There it was. An etching of a little stick man with rainbow-like hair. An authentic Lanai petroglyph.

photo by Macduff Everton

photo by Macduff Everton

He’d found it. The Hawaiian Holy Grail. Our work was done here. I think I can move on now. 

Mexico anyone?

Tags: , ,

Update on our ukulele band

I’m sure you’re dying to know how the band is doing. Better than I could possibly have imagined. Although Suzie has been too busy hanging wind chimes at Dis ‘n’ Dat and grooming her bichon frisés to give me ukulele lessons, I’ve picked up a book titled “Jumpin’ Jim’s Ukulele Tips ‘n’ Tunes” and have pretty much figured the basics out on my own. Yesterday, while sitting on the veranda of The Lodge working on a Shipwreck, I almost managed to tune my uke all by myself. I got the My Dog Has okay, but stumbled a bit on the Fleas. But I’ll get it.

(Speaking of fleas, do you know how the ukulele got its name? Well, supposedly in 1879 a laborer named Joao Fernandez arrived in Honolulu from the Portuguese island of Madeira, bringing with him a 4-string Portuguese instrument called a braguinha. Evidently the islanders were quite enchanted by this little instrument and, like me, decided they wanted to learn how to play it. Since they couldn’t pronounce braguinha—and neither can I—they called the instrument an oo-koo-le-le, which is Hawaiian for “jumping flea,” since this is how the islanders described the effect of a player’s fingers “jumping” around the fretboard. And now…you know…the rest of the story.”)

If you think of Arthur Godfrey or something when you think of the ukulele, you should check out this YouTube video of the Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain (I kid you not) playing the theme from “Shaft.”

Awesome. I’m just wondering how long it will take me to get that good. Probably more time than I’ve got left on the island.  

Tags: , , ,

The great pineapple search

Do you know what’s almost impossible to find on the Pineapple Island? Pineapples. I haven’t seen a single plant the whole time I’ve been here. Yesterday I decided to go on the Great Pineapple Hunt. I started at the Blue Ginger where, over breakfast, someone said he thought there were some plantings out at the airport. So I drove out there and poked around, but I couldn’t find anything. Then in the afternoon I allowed myself to get lost on private land in the Palawai Basin where they used to grow tens of thousands of pineapple plants. I figured there had to be a few remaining plants somewhere. I mean, they couldn’t all just disappear, could they? Wouldn’t there be a forgotten plot, somewhere, of rogue pineapple plants?

photo by David Lansing

photo by David Lansing

I drove and drove and drove, down one cinder road after the other, until I came to this field that had a locked gate blocking the road and a sign that said RESTRICTED AREA. Why, I wondered, was access restricted? What the hell was going on behind the gate?

Since I couldn’t drive any further, I got out and started walking. I must have walked a mile or more down that red road. And you know what I saw? Nothing. Just the same shoulder-high grass you see everywhere else on the island. Yet I have to say that I had this feeling that the pineapples were out there somewhere. Hiding. Don’t ask me why. It sounds like an animated Disney movie, right? The Land of the Lost Pineapples.

Totally frustrated, I drove back to The Lodge, thinking I’d sit out on the veranda and have a Shipwreck or two. And that’s when I saw it. A little garden, tucked away, just to the right of the long entry road leading to the resort. I parked the Jeep in the grass and went for a look. There were papaya trees and starfruit, mangos and all kinds of bananas. And there, in an almost forgotten corner of the garden, was a little plot of stubby pineapple plants. The last survivors, the great-great-great grandchildren of Dole pineapples on what used to be Pineapple Island.

photo by Macduff Everton

photo by Macduff Everton

It was kind of sad to see. But I like knowing that there are at least a few pineapple descendants still on the island. 

Tags: , , ,

An afternoon in Dole Park

Big day in Lanai City. In front of Café 55, several women have set up tables selling slippahs, quilts, baskets, and leis made of shells. Meanwhile, across the street in Dole Park, locals are barbecuing linguica, chicken and pork satays, whole fish. Macduff buys a plate of curried chicken and Asian noodles. I go for some chicken katsu (sort of a Japanese-style fried chicken) and some samosas stuffed with shrimp. Next to the barbecue, a large woman oozing out of a folding aluminum chair has a little Styrofoam cooler at her side that is full of Spam California rolls. Two bucks each.

photo by Macduff Everton

photo by Macduff Everton

This little food scene pretty much sums up the mix of cultures on Lanai. There are about 2,500 full-time residents on the island but you’d be hard-pressed to find more than a couple dozen  who are pure Hawaiian. In fact, the largest ethnic group here is Filipino, followed by Japanese, Koreans, and Caucasians. Those who are part-Hawaiian, like Derwin Kwon, whose family—half Korean, half Hawaiian—has lived here for generations, make up less than 10% of the population.

Yet you go over to Dole Park and walk around and see families eating satays and samosas, curried chicken and Spam rolls, and it looks like everyone gets along just fine. American assimilation, Hawaiian-style. Just like our new incoming president.

Tags: , , ,

Hot melons

There aren’t a lot of dining choices in Lanai City. The best of the lot is probably the Lanai City Grille in the Hotel Lanai which, until 1990, was the only hotel on the island. James D. Dole himself built the inn in 1923, mainly as a place to house Dole executives from the mainland. The rustic furnishings—worn hardwood floors, old ceiling fans, chintz curtains—give it a certain historical charm, if you like that sort of thing.

The hotel restaurant used to be called Henry Clay’s Rottisserie and was run by a guy from New Orleans named Henry Clay Richardson. I ate there a couple of times and the food was good, but it always felt a bit odd to me to be dining on cajun shrimp, eggplant creole, and pecan pie on the Pineapple Island.

photo by David Lansing

photo by David Lansing

In some ways it seems like nothing ever changes on Lanai and in other ways, it seems they change all the time. Mostly, I guess, the change comes from those who visit the island and then decide to move here and see if they can make a go of it. Henry Clay Richardson was one of those people. He took over the Hotel Lanai in 1996, ran it for a decade, then—for whatever reason—sold it off to new owners.

So it goes.

Anyway, another place I like quite a bit is Pele’s Other Garden Deli and Bistro, next to the Pine Isle Market. It’s basically a deli in what used to be the Lanai Visitor Information Center. Its owners, Mark and Barbara Zigmond, moved here from Jersey over a decade ago. When I asked Mark why they moved here, he said, “Just wanted to drop out of the rat race.”

Well, okay, but owning a deli in Lanai City isn’t exactly kickin’ back and taking it easy. They serve lunch from 11 to 3, close for an hour or so in the afternoon, and then transform the little pseudo-New York deli into a casual Jersey Italian restaurant for dinner. Mark cooks, Barbara acts as hostess and waitress when she’s not behind the cash register.

Macduff and I have had lunch there a couple of times and we really enjoyed their good-sized pastrami and swiss (if you order it as the #5, you get a free pickle). We also enjoyed joking around with Barbara who is, as they say, a full-figured gal. The first day we ate there, she was wearing a white t-shirt with the words HOT MELONS sort of wrapping around her….well, melons.

photo by Macduff Everton

photo by Macduff Everton

“You must get some comments about that t-shirt,” Macduff said.

“Oh, yeah,” Barbara said, laughing. “It’s a good conversation starter.”

If you happen to stop in there some time and she’s not wearing the shirt, ask her where the hot melons are. Maybe she’ll show you. 

Tags: , , , , , ,

« Older entries